


The Game of Love

by modillian



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Always-a-girl!Ray, F/M, Genderswap, Tour!fic, asshole!Frank, comedy porn, girl!Ray, lolporn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-13
Updated: 2009-06-13
Packaged: 2017-10-31 11:54:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/343761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/modillian/pseuds/modillian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank is a jackass, and he is <i>not</i> smooth with the ladies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Game of Love

**Author's Note:**

> [Rhythm of the Night](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u3ltZmI5LQw)
> 
> and [Hot Boyz](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4LcXL0rO5zk) are the songs Frank references. Why? Because it's funny.

 

 

"Banzai!" Frank shouts, and jumps up to grip Ray's hips with his knees. He pulls himself up by her shoulders and starts to climb onto them.

"Hey, ow, cut it out, that's my boob!" Ray yelps, and shoves him off with her shoulder. He falls on his ass in the dust outside the club. She's cupping her boob protectively and glaring at him. Oops.

"Aw, Ray, what? Sorry, it's all in the name of the game."

"What game?" she asks irritably.

"The game of looooove. No really!" Ray's still clutching herself and glaring suspiciously. "Look at all those hot ladies out there, just waiting for me. I need a good perch to see them all. One of them might have totally hot tattoos, you never know."

Ray looks thoughtful. "On second thought, I probably should have punched you instead." She prods her boob and looks at it critically.

Frank feels a little bad. "Aw, c'mon. I'm sorry, I am. I didn't mean to, y'know." He steps next to her. "You want me to kiss it better?"

Ray punches his arm this time, hard, and he hops away moaning dramatically, but he figures they're even. They go inside to play the club and afterward Frank strikes out with two girls before making out with a third, a girl with serious facial piercings and blue hair.

Near them are two dudes smoking on the stairwell. One checks out the girl when she passes by. "Wow. And I always thought Lucy was a dyke."

The guy next to him snickers and looks at Frank pityingly. "She is. Her girlfriend dared her to suck face with a dude when Lucy said she wanted a threesome. Man, I'd love some video on _that_."

Frank _bristles_.

***

"I am totally awesome with the ladies!" Frank says indignantly.

"Sure," Ray snorts. She's picking up Matt's kit because Matt is wasted and might fall through the bass drum.

"I have amazing skills! Women love me. Pretty soon they'll be throwing their panties on stage or some shit."

"Ew," says Ray.

"Fuck you!" yells Gerard. Frank gets a lapful of beer for his troubles.

"I am an amazing specimen of heterosexual manhood, ain't that right Gerard!" Frank yells and gets Gerard in a headlock. Gerard is drunk and therefore a lies there like a beery noodle while Frank finishes humping him in victory.

"Wow, I'm totally impressed," says a girl standing with Mikey.

"Eh?" Frank looks up. "You should be. I'm amazing." He waggles his eyebrows and wiggles his hips at the same time.

Out of nowhere Gerard headbutts him in the stomach and Frank drops to the floor in whoosh of lost air. He tries to get his breath back as Gerard careens to the barman calling for last rounds.

"Totally," the girl repeats, and continues chatting with Mikey.

"I'm a stud," Frank says later in the van. He's resting his head on Ray's shoulder and holding onto her arm.

"Sure," Ray says pleasantly. "Pass me the blanket?" Frank does, and she spreads it over the both of them, and Frank cuddles on her arm and falls asleep and when he wakes up she only mocks him a little about the drool.

***

"I'm a prowler of the night, ready to prey on young nubile flesh," Frank yells at the Halloween party they crashed. Free beer is better than hosting his own party and paying with all the non-money they have.

"I'm starting to think you're overcompensating, dude," Ray says and slings back a plastic red cup. She's entrenched in a video game fight with two other dudes and winning. Frank is not going to be lamely playing video games all night, because it's his birthday and it's not his party so he is getting _laid_.

He gets distracted by the album collection in the house, because it's seriously terrible and heavy on the New Wave.

"Hey, where'd everybody go?" he asks no one when the girl he'd been chatting up passed out on the couch.

He gets up to look around. Matt is nowhere to be seen. Ray is waving victory arms at the game console and the guy next to her is groaning in defeat. Gerard is in the kitchen and appears to be reaching third base with a skinny black-haired girl (or guy?) Frank leaves only to see Mikey shirtless and drinking right from the spout in the bathroom.

Frank scratches the back of his head. "Dude, fair warning? Don't go into the kitchen, okay, and I have had the shittiest luck tonight, seriously." Mikey twitches an eyebrow and Frank's about to go on when the door across the hall opens. A girl calls, "Mikey? Where'd you go?" and a different girl's voice says, "Come back here, Mikeyway." Mikey wipes the water from his mouth, pats Frank on the shoulder, and walks to the room with the girls. Frank can see the hickeys on the back of Mikey's neck before the door closes again.

Frank feels his brain steaming in his skull and marches back to the living room in a fury. He collapses onto the couch and makes elephant noises in frustration.

"Wow, is it that bad?" Ray asks, amused.

"Yes, what the fuck! I should be the friggen Casanova of the night! I don't understand."

"Yeah, I can see that," Ray says and gets up, stretching her arms over her head, making satisfied noises.

The guy she beat at the game is still on the couch and he's eyeing her. "Hey, you wanna go someplace?" he says.

Ray leans back, cocks her head, then says, "Sure." She flicks he fingers at Frank as they leave.

Frank gapes into the buzzing blue TV screen.

***

"Cowabunga!" Frank yells, and smashes into Ray and Gerard, toppling them over from a conspiratorial huddle into the floor. No one secretly conspires in the band without him -it's a rule, right up there with no more chewing gum pranks and no more Pringles-tube wars. It should teach them a lesson.

"Wow, what a shithead," says a girl talking to Mikey. It's the same girl from last time too. Ugh, probably another record shark. "Takes one to know one," Frank says to the girl, and she purses her lips.

"Wow," Ray says. " _Ow_. Again. What the fuck, Frank?" and okay, she sounds a little angry now. She holds out her shirt. It's ripped, and they've got a few more weeks on this leg of the tour with few reserve clothes.

"Uh, sorry, sorry, sorry!" he says into his knees as he curls up defensively and Ray smacks him over the head repeatedly. Then Ray gets him hard in the ribs and he dodges to the side to let her pass by without further beatings. She biffs him on the nose anyways.

"Ouch," he says nasally through the sting.

"Is he like this all the time?" the girl asks Mikey.

"Yeah, pretty much. Sometimes there are fewer injuries," Mikey says, the betrayer.

"And who are you to care," Frank fires back. The girl raises her eyebrows.

Mikey coughs. "Uh, this is Jamia, she worked with me at Eyeball for a while. Jamia, this is Frank, you saw him on guitar with us earlier." Frank closes his mouth and sets his jaw stubbornly. Jamia looks down at him then looks away, delicately picking something off her eyelashes. She keeps talking to Mikey.

When their backs are turned Frank pulls a face, so he's distracted from Ray sneaking in an extra whap to the kidneys. Frank _oofs_ and bends in half, then loses his balance and rolls to the floor, loudly crushing the baggie of Doritos in his pocket.

"Aw, man," he whines.

***

Frank finally gets his hands down a girl's pants in Philadelphia, but the girl kicks him out of the car before he finishes and she speeds away with his left shoe on the dashboard.

"FUCK," he shouts to the sky.

Matt laughs like Bart Simpson and Mikey snorts into his slushy.

Frank mopes. "Fuck, this is totally ruining my ladykiller reputation."

"Yeah, you're a serial killer," Mikey deadpans, so Frank steals his slushy. He complains about it the rest of the afternoon in the van.

Ray finally sighs. "Dude, I hate to say it, but your track record says otherwise. You may want to rethink what you want your reputation to be."

"But it's what I am! Ray Toro, I cannot be anything other than what I am. _Know thyself_ or some shit."

"Who told you that?"

"I read it in a book. Carpe diem."

" _Temet nosce_ ," Gerard corrects. "And you saw it in The Matrix."

"Eh?" Frank says. Then he gets distracted and yells out the window, "Hey baby, you must've washed your clothes in windex 'cause I can see myself in your pants!" Gerard groans and pulls on Frank's hair until he sits back and lies on Gerard's lap. Gerard runs his fingers through Frank's hair until he falls asleep.

"You know you're acting like an asshole," Ray tells him later when they crash in the living room of a no-name house.

Franks grumps and considers it. "Well, _yeah_. But it's not fair! My true spirit isn't shining through to enact my true desires. My positive psychic energy isn't creating positive physical results. Lorem Ipsum."

"Temet nosce," Ray mumbles. "Frank, sometimes shit is just chance. You're fine most of the time. Just quit while you're ahead on the not-completely-a-buttmonkey scale."

Frank thinks it over for a minute. Then he yells, "NO!" and wrestles with Ray until he gets a facefull of her boobs and she kicks him out the front door and won't let him back in.

***

"Yeah, and Melissa said, like, he was totally a shitty kisser. Like, you might as well not even talk to him," says a girl under a parasol.

"Totally right," agrees a girl with sunglasses.

"Like, _completely_ ," parasol girl says, and Frank stands up from where he'd been crouched behind Ray for the shade. "Boo!" he shouts, and the girls shriek and run off. Matt laughs at them and taps out his cigarette.

This is getting to desperate and despairing measures. Frank tugs frantically at his hair. "Ray, Ray, I can't even believe this! They're besmirching my good name!"

"You have one?" asks Matt.

"Fuck you, I have an awesome name! And it's totally getting wrecked by gossipers!"

"Weren't you just saying how much you loved girls gossiping about you?" Ray adds, trying to flatten her own hair in the shiny reflection of the trailer.

"But true gossip is awesome and good. This is just shit-talking to try and tarnish my reputation."

Ray hums. "You mean the reputation you don't have? Do you even remember kissing someone named Melissa?"

"That's beside the point! I don't remember a lot of things when I'm drunk, why would names be one of them?"

Ray glances at him, then hums again thoughtfully. "Well, if you didn't kiss the girl, then she really is just making stuff up."

Frank is warmed by Ray's show of solidarity and bounces on his heels. "That's right! She'd have no reason to be unhappy. I'm a love machine even when I'm trashed."

"But if you did kiss her, and it was shitty, then she's just telling the truth, man, and that's not gossiping," she goes on unconcernedly. Matt laughs at Frank's expression, and Frank staggers back, hand clutched to his heart.

"How could you accuse me of something like that? I wouldn't lie about my prowess with the ladies. Hello ladies," Frank leers at a group of women passing by.

Ray brushes off her shirt and sighs. "Frank, I love you a lot, but you brag."

"But I brag about true things!"

"Ten minutes ago you bragged about being king of the universe, and then about beating Gerard at backgammon."

"Exactly! All true things, like I said." Frank doesn't need to lie about his own awesomeness. If only the universe would align itself to make way for how awesome he is, things would go much smoother all over the world. And in the band. And with the ladies. Frank scuffles close to Ray and tips his face up so she can see his bright, honest grin full of teeth. Ray shakes her head and kisses the top of his head before leaving for the 7-Eleven across the street.

He bounces up and down and smokes some more, then catches his reflection in the trailer side. His hair is sticking up crazily and his cheek is bruised from where he fell off stage yesterday. Okay, so maybe his ladykiller looks could use some work. But the shirt he's wearing today is only a little grimy and tight enough to show off his very manly pecs. He goes to check out if that group of girls is still hanging around the other buses.

They're not. Frank sighs at the indignities in his life and plays beer pong instead.

***

"This is the rhythm of the niiiiiiight," Frank sings and careens around Mikey's room at the motel. Gerard is flopped over on the bed already and has a comic propped on his chest. Frank grabs Mikey's hands and dances him around the room. Mikey tips around waifishly and looks relieved to be set down when Frank skips out of the room again.

He sees Ray turned away from him and talking to someone around the corner. He tip-toes over and then clutches her around the waist and doesn't let go when she gasps and grumbles in exasperation. "Hey, what's up my homies!" he says and grins at the dude Ray is talking to. The guy snorts and backs away, and Ray leans sideways to thump Frank's arm against the wall to get his attention.

Frank likes being contrary, though. He slings over more to Ray's non-wall side so he can climb up her back, knees around her waist, tug his arms around her shoulders and see her face. She looks annoyed. "Seriously, Iero?" And oh, bummer.

"Wait, were you seriously gonna pick up that dude? Dude. _Dude_." He giggles and flops around on her back when Ray gently tries to shake him off. Then she shakes harder.

"You're cramping my style," Ray says, and Frank grins into her shoulder because no, he is obviously not in any way, shape, or form. Especially if he's preventing things like _that_ from happening.

"No seriously, what was that? You can do so much better. The merch guys are way hotter than the techs."

"And the techs are way hotter than you. Get off me."

Frank giggles into her shoulder more. "No they're not," he sing-songs. "I'm a hot boy, a rock boy, a fun toy."

"Oh my god. You need to stop letting Missy give you lines."

"No way dude, Missy is the queen."

"No, the Queen is Latifa. And all of you need to get off my back." Ray tilts to the side and almost loses her balance, and Frank shouts and hangs on, and she bangs into a door. Frank ducks in anticipation of smacking his head on the panel, but the doors swing open instead, surprisingly unlocked. It's some empty lounge area.

"Wow, nice," says Ray. She leans Frank over to switch on a light, and they totter over to a loveseat next to a big fake plant and a bookshelf of fake books. Frank hikes a leg higher over her waist and Ray flails a little as he tries to pry loose a hollow book to show Gerard later (he'd have a fit about things being shells of their real selves), but they're all glued in there pretty well. He tips over a little too far and Ray makes an "aaaargh" noise as they fall slowly into the loveseat, Ray on top of him and his arms still looped around her shoulders.

"Ooooh, Ray, I never knew," Frank says and he smacks a kiss to the side of her head. Ray grumbles. She sits up and they slide around together on the springy cushion, Frank finally slouching low to keep an arm around her waist and his head resting between her boob and her elbow over his shoulder. It's nice. He sighs happily.

After a while Ray breaks the silence. She snickers. "Hunh. With moves like yours it's a wonder you get anywhere at all." She giggles to herself some more.

Frank sits up. "You really don't believe me about that, do you?"

Ray rolls her eyes and giggle-groans in exasperation. "Frank. Come on, I don't mean it."

"No, you really don't believe me!" He's miffed and maybe a little hurt. Who would have though _Ray_ would be the one to disbelieve him utterly? He clutches his heart again only semi-ironically. "You really think I'm making up all of my manly prowess."

"Frank, come on. It doesn't matter, I don't care about you exaggerating."

"I'll show you exaggeration! Come here, we're making out now." Ray chortles. "I'm not kidding!" He pecks her chin right under her lip and looks at Ray determinedly.

Ray seems skeptical. "Frank, you'd better stop now. I don't start to kiss and then get distracted halfway through." Frank knows she's thinking of Gerard and that kid from Sacramento he'd passed out on, who'd then blabbed it to the entire tour.

"I don't get distracted either! I'm serious." He keeps looking at her expectantly and straight in the eye and grabs her hand in his.

Ray leans back a bit and looks at him, assessing. She doesn't drop his hand. "Hmm. Alright, if you're serious. Come here," she says, and takes up his other hand. Frank wants to smile, it's so sweet.

There're a couple false starts, glancing, more skin than lip, more corner of the mouth than actual kiss, but Frank re-orients and shifts his head to the side. Frank is a good kisser; he knows this. He pecks his way close-lipped onto the line of her mouth, until Ray relents and sighs small and opens wider. She's nice, soft and wet, tasting of nothing so much as water. He slowly works his way in deeper and lets her feel his ring, then when Ray's breath hitches a little he edges back and makes her push forward instead. She presses in more for the underside of his lip, mouthing his ring, and yeah, that's good, that's _great_. He shivers a few times, riding the buzz of it.

And it's nice, it's really nice, the slick glossy feeling of her mouth all over. His face and his body are warmer now, his mouth getting a little plush and messy, worked up the right way. They pass it around a few more times until he's got her leaning against the armrest, hands pressed between their chests. Frank lets his tongue slowly tease across the roof of her mouth, and Ray moans, the sound curled up in her throat. They're still holding hands and her grip goes tight when he sucks her tongue, building up a rhythm, making her body wriggle against his.

Frank breaks away to preen. "See? I told you, I'm totally good at this." His voice is quite a bit lower and stranger-sounding than he expected.

"Then don't stop, you moron," she says, sounding way breathier than he's heard her before. Ray releases one of Frank's hands, grabs his jaw, tilts his face up to get at his mouth again. He hums appreciatively, and they make out a while longer, Frank's body tensing and relaxing in waves, mostly between periods where she's playing with his ring. He's totally hard now, it's awesome, he can probably convince her to let him rub off on her leg, probably.

She lets go of Frank's other hand, moves hers up between his legs and Frank flashes hot all over. His leg kicks out. Frank braces himself, presses into her slightly, stifling a groan when Ray keeps kissing him. She presses up the heel of her hand and Frank's knees wobble. "I'm going to push you back and climb on you now, okay?" Ray says, and a million pornographic images explode in his mind. Frank grunts and comes immediately.

"Motherfuck," he chokes, and Ray sighs gustily, flops back into the arm of the loveseat.

"Oh my god," she says, while Frank pants, falls forward, and clutches her arms. He's a little dizzy.

"Wait, wait," he stalls, and kind of smashes his face into her shoulder, mouths her shirt, because he has to take a fucking second after that assault, mother of god. Ray grumbles and fidgets, and geez, she's impatient for a girl. It still takes him another minute though. "Wait, I can, I can," and he captures her mouth again, pops the button on her jeans, and Ray lunges into the kiss, opening her legs. He shoves his hand down her jeans, kind of tight and awkward, but Ray wiggles her hips and helps her jeans down, helps him fumble across her underwear. He slicks up his thumb first and circles over her clit, and Ray breaks the kiss to groan in his ear.

Fuck yeah, Frank's still got it. He presses two fingers inside to try for a good angle, and Ray abruptly curls a foot over his leg to pull him closer. His breath whooshes out and his mouth smears across her jaw, but he keeps his hand steady. It takes a few minutes of him breathing heavily in her ear and feeling her boobs squished up against his chest, but Ray starts to circle her hips and thrust up into it, and then she holds his wrist down.

"Yeah, yeah, that's it, come on," Frank says in her ear, and Ray makes little noises in her throat when she comes, and his hand is wet to the wrist.

"Shit," she breathes out harshly. Frank can feel her tremble, still plastered up against her, rising and falling with the tide of her breath. His arms are spasmy, his mouth is dry, and he's tasting her skin and adrenaline. Fuck yeah, he's awesome.

"Fuck yeah, I am so awesome with the ladies!" he crows.

He kind of expects it when Ray kicks him off the loveseat. She's still breathing shakily and spread out loose over the cushions, though, so Frank still counts it as a win.

When he can, he sits up. "Argh, gross, I need a fucking bathroom," he groans when he feels his gross fucking boxers. This will be an increasingly important issue for the next half hour until he can at least rinse himself off and a race between the smell and ungluing his dick from the fabric.

"You're already gross," Ray grumbles.

"Yeah? You're grosser. You got way messier than me."

"And yet I'm not the one in a race against time." Ray zips up her pants and sits up, testing her legs.

"That was good though, right? I'm awesome with the ladies, it's true."

Ray gives him a look, and after a couple more minutes she strides to the door with more or less unwobbly knees. "You're alright, but don't get cocky about it, you asshole."

Frank whoops and skids out the door. He doesn't stop skidding, shoes slipping, involuntarily slides right past a yellow CAUTION: WET FLOOR sign, and pinwheels his arms frantically until he wipes out flat on his back, air slamming out of his lungs.

"Ow," he says after a minute. There are little involuntary tears in his eyes too. The throbbing pain in his head and his ass effectively negates the afterglow. He looks back to see Ray crouched on the floor and laughing her head off.

"Wow," says a familiar dry voice near his feet. Frank tilts his head the other way to see Jamia looking down at him with an amused expression. "I'm kind of impressed."

"I'm an impressive guy," Frank retorts breathlessly. His chest is kicking in spurts as his breathing jumps and evens out; he feels like one of those cockroaches sprayed with Raid and left to lie twitching until they die.

"Huh." She chews on her lip a little. "You want a hand?"

Frank wheezes and keeps looking at Jamia. "Sure, just gimme a minute," he says, and lets her keep watching him. He knows his manly chest looks great in this shirt.


End file.
